Page 37 of Light

As Lydia holds out her quivering hand and Sawyer slides the dazzling rock on her finger, Dad snorts with hearty approval. “That’s the way to treat my princess, Mr. Foley.”

Sawyer flicks up half a grin. “No. This is the way to treat my queen.”

I lift a new finger into the air. “Ding, ding, ding! And that, friends, was the superstud answer.”

With her eyes still leaking a little, Lydia still summons enough composure to insert a saucy smile—along with the perfect way to seal the deal with the man of her dreams. “Up, up, and away, kids.”

Chapter Five

Reece

I’ve never been picky about the extra decorating touches Emma’s brought to the Brocade’s penthouse over the last year. Necessity has dictated that we spend more time up here than even the condo we’ve kept over on the west side, and I’ve ordered her to revise things to feel more at home here. From new pictures on the walls to extra knickknacks on the shelves to new paint and fixtures in the bathrooms, I’ve enjoyed and approved of it all, freshly impressed each time by my wife’s creative eye and sense of fun.

But this time, she’s gone Fun.

Yes, with a capital F.

And yes—though I’ll never admit it to the woman’s face because I value my testicles—I’m damn glad this revamp is temporary.

The occasion is a worthy excuse. For Sawyer and Lydia’s engagement party, the woman of my heart has pulled out all the stops on her imagination—including the gift-table centerpiece that’s getting the brunt of my perturbed stare this second. The decoration features a huge red latex balloon holding up a miniature hot-air balloon basket—with a pair of dolls custom created to resemble the soon-to-be happy couple.

Emma had called the look “adorable.”

Not exactly the word that came to my mind.

As I glower down through the red balloon and force out thoughts of Annabelle and Chucky, I nearly pulse myself through the ceiling when a pair of playful faces appear on the other side of the huge orb. “Holy ssshhh…”

“Dada!” Lux cuts me off in the nick of time. “Loooook! You’re like Red Hulk, only not mean!”

A pair of full snickers from Lydia. “Give him props for the slightly better hair, kid.”

I lean out from the balloon, reapplying my glare. “Slightly better?”

“Compared to what’s between my thighs every night?” she mutters, taking advantage of Lux’s fascination with the gifts to throw a lusty glance toward her fiancé. Like me, Foley’s attempting to be a good sport about Emma and Lydia’s party theme choice. He’s dressed in a camel-colored suit with a brown silk tie and matching fedora, though the silky locks that have earned my sister-in-law’s worship are pulled back into a proper queue.

But I don’t care if the dude is Douglas Fairbanks reincarnated. “Not a visual I needed, sister.”

“Meh,” Lydia counters. “Just imagine the dolls doing it instead.”

“Ohhhh, that does it. I’m adding that one to your column on the list.”

“The eff?” While I’m grateful she’s replaced her favorite swear word with its kid-safe substitute, no way is she getting completely off the hook in my book—a fact I make clear with my serene smirk and unflinching arrogance. “What the hell kind of list? And why the daylights do I already have a ‘column’?”

I cock a brow. “Because I’m pretty sure Alex didn’t decide Steve Sarsgard was going to be a UFO geek all on his own.”

In situations like this, it’s fun to notice the differences between the Crist girls. Where my Emma would blush, avert her gaze, and then make a stab for my good graces with angel eyes and a sweet apology, Lydia is completely comfortable in her devil woman’s skin. “Well, if that’s the charge, then drag me away in cuffs, Your Honor.” She adjusts her long pearls and then winks. “Can you just make sure that Officer Foley gets to book me? And punish me?”

“And don’t you have the imaginations of other party guests to be ripping apart now?” I scan the living room of the Brocade’s penthouse, where Emma decided it’d be best to stage the party in light of the extensive guest list. Many of ’Dia’s friends from the tennis world are here, as well as some new friends she’s made since deciding to dive back into college, studying Kinesiology at USC. There are also a number of staff members from the Southern California offices of Richards Reaches Out, who know and love both Lydia and Foley.

As if the universe cued the coincidence, my remark precedes the arrival of yet another guest to the throng. But as soon as he walks in, catches sight of ’Dia and waves hello, she flings a stern side-eye back at me. “Don’t think of repeating that with my father on incoming, dude.”

“Repeat what?” I drawl. “The part about Sawyer putting you in handcuffs or the part about his dreamy locks nestled between your—”

“Daddy.”

She rushes forward to be crushed in Todd Crist’s affectionate embrace. “My sweet Dee,” he murmurs lightly against her pin-curled hair. “Well, don’t you look like the bee’s knees?”

Lydia bops his shoulder, laughing at his teasing reference to the party’s theme. “And you’re the cat’s meow, Daddy-o!”